A Tale of Two Wars
by The.Beast.Within.Us
Summary: "She is the battle forged blade that cuts through his enemies. He is the armor that cups her soft body, protecting her from harm." Almiri has one wish, and that is to find out who her father was. With her mother's old journal in hand, she sets off on a journey across Skyrim, a journey through her past. The last thing she needs -or wants for that matter- is to become the Dragonborn.
1. Chapter 1

_"You want to know who the Forsworn are? We are the people who must pillage our own land. Burn our own ground. We are the scourge of the Nords. The axe that falls in the dark. The scream before the gods claim your soul. We are the true sons and daughters of the Reach."_

 **The Reach 4E 175**

Almiri shut her eyes in concentration as she held her palm forward. She could feel the soft hum of her magic within her, building as she focused. The magelight softly flickered to life and when she opened her eyes, she smiled in triumph. The light warmed her skin, giving a soft glow to the space around her. Perhaps Mother would stop being so sad all the time when she learned what Almiri could do, "Everyone will be happy," Almiri told herself. She frowned, trying hard to remember the time before they came here, to Markarth. The time when her mother, Alva, was happy. At the edge of her mind was a foggy memory of her father, the last time she saw him. He stood tall and proud, a grin on his bearded face.

 _"Where's my little warrior?" He asked, kneeling down. Almiri giggled as she came charging around the corner, barreling into his arms. His laughter was loud and deep in his chest, booming as he scooped her into his arms. "Well look at what I've caught? A little Miri, fiercest of all the warriors!"_

 _She squealed as he tossed her in the air, catching her as she drew dangerously close to the floor. Alva approached them in concern, "Ach, must you play so dangerously?"_

 _He placed Almiri on her feet and whispered, "Shall we attack, my little warrior?"_

 _With a grin on her face, she nodded in agreement and they charged. Almiri latched onto her mother's legs. Her father came up from behind, lifting them both into the air._

Then she remembered her mother crying as she carried Almiri away into the night.

 _"Mama? Why are you sad?" little Almiri asked, unaware of the danger she was in._

 _"Shh, baby. We have to be quiet," she said, tears brimming in her eyes. Almiri looked back at the building behind her. The stone stood tall and looked as though it had weathered many wars and would still stand for thousands of years to come. Almiri remembered thinking of it as home, thinking of her large bear of a father._

 _"Why are we leaving, Mama? Is Daddy coming too?" asked Almiri, no older than three. Alva choked back a sob, "No, Miri, Daddy is not coming with us."_

 _"Oh… but why Mama? I want Daddy to come too. Does Daddy not want to come with us?"_

 _Alva hugged her daughter tight, wrapping the cloak around her as she silently left the city. The tears slowly fell down her cheeks as she answered her daughters questions as best she could, "I'm sorry little Miri, but you will not be seeing Daddy again."_

 _"Oh."_

Suddenly the ground shook with an unknown force and she fell forward, the magelight dying in her hand. The gates of Markarth burst open and men with axes and swords charged through. She felt the force of the shout, though she was far away, and her body buzzed with energy. Her limbs tingled as soft prickles traveled up her arms. Almiri ran and hid beneath a bridge as a young man's voice seemed to knock people to the ground. He stood tall, with broad shoulders and long blonde hair. Her eyes connected with his and she recoiled further beneath the bridge.

"Miri?! Almiri, where are you?!"

Almiri jumped up and ran towards her mother's voice, "Mama!"

Relief flooded her mother's face, "Come, Miri. We have to leave."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her and she could feel her mother shake with fear as she took ahold of her hand. They ran to the mines, making their way through the tunnels and out of the city. As they ran, Almiri could see the city behind her. The sounds and sights of battle flooded her senses. She could hear metal on metal, the cries of pain and anger from the soldiers. Blood flowed into the river and stained the stone. As they escaped from the city, an image stuck in her mind, the face of the man who caused it all. From his angry blue eyes and tangled golden hair, down to the scar that stretched across his cheek. The face of Ulfric Stormcloak.

~Sixteen Years Later~

"You do not have to leave us, Almiri," the elder said, his hand tight on her shoulder. Almiri shook her head.

"But I do."

She tied a sack of coins to her belt and shrugged his hand off her shoulder. She looked down at herself. The furs covering her body were warm and snug around her. It was made of snow wolf pelt, a unique armor that had been enchanted. If Almiri crouched down, they would not see her, but rather the snow wolf, whose head she wore. She had donned her mother's armor, a gift after she died, for the trip, rather than her old spiked Forsworn armor that would likely get her killed on sight. If she knew anything about Nords it was that their hatred of the Forsworn was nearly as great as the Forsworn's hatred of them.

Almiri set out that day, making it as far as Reachcliff cave before night fell. She unraveled her bed roll and laid beneath the stars, starting a small fire before she pulled her mother's journal from her knapsack.

 ** _Windhelm 4E 162_**

 _I've just made it out of the Rift, a dirty place filled with thieves and cutthroats, here's hoping that Windhelm is a better place. It's been two years since I left my home, two years since I ran from my betrothal to Cortar. I find myself asking if it was worth it, if this trip has been for naught. I never understood the Forsworn's hatred for Nords, they seek to survive in this cold land just as we do. I had thought perhaps one day we could coexist. Now I find it a wonder that these fools know one end of a sword from another._

 _I imagine my father would roll in his grave to find me among the Nords working beside them and speaking with them. "Alva, what are you doing?" "Alva, how could you be so foolish?"_

 _Of course he also would suggest the Forsworn were nearly as bad. He was a stubborn Breton, but he could not have been that strong in his convictions, after all he did marry my mother, a half Nord as well as Forsworn._

 _Tomorrow I will enter the city, its stone walls loom in the distance beckoning me to enter. I think I will. I can't imagine these people being any worse than those I have already met. Would my life be better had I not run? Would Cortar have been a decent match? My mind asks these questions daily, yet I refuse to return until I have found what I am looking for. Something calls to me...and I shall answer._

The next few weeks were slow going, as the falling snow blocked Almiri's path. After a month she had made it into the Rift, and was nearing Darkwater Crossing. She sighed, dropping her bag on the ground and rolled her shoulders. She heard the sound of underbrush crunching and spun around, searching for the source. Before she could take a step forward a large hand clamped over her mouth while an arm wrapped around her middle. She struggled against her attacker, but he simply squeezed her tighter until she finally stopped her squirming. The arm that had be holding her moved to brush aside the branches of an evergreen tree, revealing a squadron of Imperials. She unconsciously stepped back, colliding with a large chest.

When Almiri turned around she was stunned into silence. _That face_. Her fists clenched and when Ulfric was distracted by the sound of shouting in the distance she launched herself at him. Her magic crackled with her anger, her touch sending a shock through him.

"You monster!" she shouted, as they tumbled to the ground. Confused Ulfric held her back, grunting at the sharp pain that her magic brought. He gripped her wrists, pushing her hands back and she growled in frustration, "Get your hands off me you filthy murderer!"

She jerked her knee into his side and he growled, but did not relent. It wasn't until the imperial soldiers lifted her from the ground and tossed her into the back of a cart that the two separated. Almiri groaned as another body collided with her own on in the cart. She turned to glare at Ulfric, who now sat beside her.

Two carts were loaded up with soldiers, as well as two others who clearly were not soldiers. She fumed, they wore the same armor as the soldiers that exiled her people from her home.

 _But they're not your people, not entirely_ , a little voice reminded her.

Almiri sighed and when the cart jerked forward, tossing her into Ulfric's lap, she took the opportunity to elbow him in the stomach. He glared back at her, but did nothing. Ulfric looked as though he wanted to say something, but the gag in his mouth prevented him from saying anything. She smirked at him, and they sat in a tense silence until night fell.

* * *

When the sun rose, they were up again and Almiri found herself back in the bloody cart. With each bump in the road she felt her bottom bruise a little more. Balling her fists, she turned towards the back of the cart. They were riding uphill, if she jumped now, she might escape. As she moved to get up, Almiri felt a hand on her arm. She looked up at Ulfric and scowled. He shook his head, his eyes telling her that he knew what she planned to do.

Angry, she tossed her weight against Ulfric causing them both to go tumbling out the back of the cart. They easily rolled down the hill and off the side of the road. When they finally tumbled to a stop she was able to pull her hands free from their binds. She turned towards Ulfric. He still lay on the ground, his blonde hair strewn across the ground and his face. His steely blue eyes glared back at her, "Get up," she growled, burning the rope that bound his hands, "I will not fight an unarmed man."

He stood before her, but made no move to fight. She angrily shoved him, "Fight me."

Almiri, knocked him to the ground, gripping the front of his shirt in her hands, "Fight me!"

Ulfric knocked her feet out from under her, causing her to fall onto her back. Grunting she climbed to her feet and tugged the gag from his mouth. He finally stopped scowling and grumbled, "I'll not fight a child."

"A child?!" she shouted. She plopped into his lap and grabbed his hand, turning his palms towards her. She pressed his hands against her breasts, then moved them down her stomach and to her hips where he gripped her as she ground her hips against him. Then she leaned forward, her breasts pressed against his chest as she whispered, "Do I feel like a child?"

Ulfric fought his growing arousal and grunted out, "My mistake… a whore then," before flipping them. He held her hands above her head with one hand and the other he placed on her throat, "Who are you that you think you know me so well?"

Almiri glared up at him, "I am no one."

"Well, _no one_ , what are you doing here?"

"I seek only to find a father whom I do not know."

Ulfric loosened his hold, "What is his name?"

She frowned, uncomfortable with telling him the truth, but given their situation she knew better than to lie, "All I know is that he is a warrior from Windhelm," Almiri glanced behind him, "the guards will catch up soon."

Ulfric pulled his hand back, watching her closely to see if she lied. When she showed no signs, he stood and pulled her up with him. At the same time the guards emerged from the trees, weapons drawn. One guard held a blade to Ulfric's throat while another wrapped and arm around Almiri's throat.

"Which one of you bloody rebels started this?"

Almiri responded by biting his arm and elbowing him in the gut. Another guard beside her reached over, gripping her hair and pulling her back violently, "You little wench!"

She had to bite her cheek to keep from crying out.

* * *

The Imperials bound them together around the trees and started a fire nearby. Almiri watched envious as the soldiers sat around the fire eating and laughing. The smell of cooked meat tickled her nose and she felt her mouth begin to water. A brief glance to her left showed her that Ralof felt much the same way. After wriggling to no avail, she finally sighed and bumped Ralof's shoulder. He moved slightly and his snores grew louder.

Almiri slumped her head, "Of course, he's asleep," she mumbled. Almiri looked to her right at Ulfric, who sat silently, still awake. She could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes, an oddly chilling sight. His face was set in determination, despite the seemingly futile situation they were in.

When she bumped his shoulder, he turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised. She mouthed the word knife and gestured downward. After a few silent seconds his eyes flicked downward then back up to her. Almiri sighed, he had no idea what she meant. She struggled to move her arms until they were closer, pressing her breasts together. She leaned to the side and Ulfric could see the tip of a hilt, resting between them. He would have laughed, had he not been gagged. Instead the two wiggled closer and struggled to stay quiet as they watched the guards around the campfire grow more and more drunk with each swig of ale.

Almiri managed to move the ropes down to her stomach so that she could lean forward. She looked up at Ulfric as his bound hands reached for the hilt of the blade. When his hands touch her skin he was startled at how smooth it was. His eyes looked up at Almiri's face just as his fingers found the hilt, and he was struck by the sight. Her eyes were shut and lips slightly parted, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest grow faster with each passing second. He felt a heat spread over him and he let his fingers linger a moment longer.

When she finally opened her eyes, Ulfric was already cutting through the binds on her hand. She took the knife from his hand, but instead of cutting him free, as he expected her to do, she placed the knife back in its hidden sheath and began to walk away. Almiri made it nearly three yards when her stomach began to grow uneasy, could she just leave them to die?

Part of her screamed that he and his men killed her people, but she knew that it was not so simple. They were also her people, and leaving them to die made her no better. Before Almiri's conscience had time to sort out her actions, the guards realized that she was gone. After a mad dash through the trees, she felt an arrow fly by her. After cursing, she dropped to the ground. If they couldn't catch her, they were just going to kill her.

Almiri sighed when she felt their arms wrap around her and lift her up. The Imperials dragged Almiri back to where the camp was already set up and the Captain in charge ordered Almiri to be whipped. She struggled in vain as they tied her arms on either side of a tree trunk, after removing her chest piece, leaving her standing in her breast bindings.

"Twenty lashes!" the Imperial Captain shouted.

"What?!" Ralof shouted, moving to stop them. It took four guards each to subdue Ralof and Ulfric after she gave the order. They tied Almiri's arms together around the trunk of the tree. The camp went silent after Ralof and Ulfric stopped their shouting.

"Five…six…seven," the captain said with each lash of the whip.

Almiri's nails dug into the bark of the tree, and try as she might, Almiri could not keep from crying out.

"Twelve…thirteen."

The sting of each lashing grew until she could feel the warmth of her blood trickling down her back. Tears began to pour down her cheeks and they cut the rope, untethering her from the tree. She sunk to the ground, leaning her weight against the tree. Ulfric tossed his weight to the right, surprising two soldiers, while knocking the others to the ground. Almiri heard the commotion and when he finally reached her, the Captain kept any more soldiers from trying to stop Ulfric. Though his hands were tied, he still managed to help Almiri to her feet. She stayed silent for the rest of the night, quietly pulling her shirt back on, and cringed at the feel of cloth against her wounds.

Then next week was silent, Almiri made no more attempts to escape, but neither did she respond to Ralof's words, or Ulfric's nudging. Instead she brooded, squeezing her eyes tight whenever the cart rocked her back against the railing. She recognized the surroundings, they were traveling in opposite direction that she wanted to go.

As the cart rolled into Helgen, Almiri noticed the woman beside her waking up. She'd thought it odd that she had stayed unconscious until now, but again said nothing. Even ignoring Ralof as he began speaking to the woman. The carts jerked to a stop and all of the prisoners were unloaded.

The guard with the list looked down at the woman in front of Almiri, "Wait, you two there, step forward. Who are you?"

"Vira."

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman"

Almiri stood silently until the guard turned to face her, "And you?"

She gave a disdainful grimace at being called a Nord, but ignored it, "The name's Almiri."

He turned to his captain, "Captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."

"Forget the list, they go to the block." Almiri shrugged and followed with a calm demeanor that peaked Vira's curiosity.

"By your orders, Captain." He turned back to them, "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland. Follow the Captain, Prisoners."

Almiri walked off to join the other prisoners in front of the chopping block. She watched with curiosity as General Tullius turned toward the leader of the rebellion, "Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne."

Almiri could hear muffled words from Jarl Ulfric, but only watched, apathetic to the situation. She was a fool for leaving the way she did, all because of her mother's stupid journal. Almiri shook her head. _No, that's not true_. She wanted to find her father, if he still lived, Nord or no.

"You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace."

Almiri looked up into the sky. _Something is coming_ , everyone turned towards the sound.

"What was that?"

"It's nothing, carry on."

"Yes, General Tullius, give them their last rites."

"As we commend your souls to Itharius, blessings of the eight divines-

Almiri cocked her head as she heard Vira speak in a different language.

"For the love of Talos, Shut up! And let's get this over with" a soldier walked to the block.

Vira chuckled, and Almiri wondered if perhaps the woman had hit her head it the ambush. It would explain why she was out so long, as well as her odd behavior.

"As you wish."

"Come on! I haven't got all morning." The captain pushed him to his knees and as he rest his head on the block he said, "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?" The executioner loped his head off and shouts came from around.

"You Imperial bastards!"

"Justice!"

"Death to the Stormcloaks!"

Ralof frowned, "As fearless in death as he was in life."

Almiri felt a small twinge of guilt at her hatred towards Nords. She realized that she really knew nothing about Nords, their culture, or even why the civil war had started to begin with.

"Next! The Nord in the rags."

"There it is again. Did you hear that?" Ralof asked her.

"I said: Next prisoner."

"To the block prisoner. Nice and easy."

The captain pushed Vira to her knees just as she had done with the prisoner before her. Almiri watched as Vira placed her head on the blood covered chopping block. When she looked up she could see the dragon behind the executioner.

"What in Oblivion is that?!"

"Centuries, what do you see?"

The Dragon landed and Almiri could feel the ground shake. It shouted and Almiri was sent tumbling to the ground. The pain of her back exploded, and she could feel nothing else, and hear none of the chaos around her. When her senses started to return to her, Almiri could see Ulfric not fifty yards from her. He was walking away from her when he suddenly turned around. His eyes locked with hers.

 _He's going to leave me to die._


	2. Chapter 2

_"Keep your brother, and he'll keep you."_

 **Helgen 4E 201**

Ulfric looked at the young woman lying on the ground. Though her arms and legs were bound she struggled to her feet. Gritting against the pain from the wounds on her back as she finally made it to her feet. Clearly still disoriented, she took a few unsteady steps forward, and Ulfric sighed before he moved to help her. He carefully took her arm and urged her closer, following the other Stormcloaks into a building. Though she didn't struggle against him, Almiri glared.

Ulfric pulled a blade from a sheath hidden beneath his cloak and cut her bindings, "You'd best stick with us lass, if you want to survive, that is."

Almiri only grunted and jerked her arm from his, "Where are my things?"

Ulfric gestured to a large chest to the right, where she found her weapons and knapsack. She pulled them out of the chest and vaguely heard Ralof asking Ulfric a question.

"Legends don't burn down villages. We need to move now!"

After carefully sheathing her weapons, moving as slowly as possible so as not to irritate her wounds, Almiri pulled a small blue bottle from her bag. She quickly chugged the contents and made a distasteful noise before flexing her hands. Ulfric watched as a small ball of light danced between her two palms. He had seen healing magic before, but not to such an extent.

When the spell dissipated, Almiri rolled her shoulders and turned back towards Ulfric, "Lead the way."

Almiri braced herself as the building shook, stones from the top floor tumbling back as the snout of the dragon burst through. Ralof, midway on the stairs, shouted for the men to get down as the gaping jaw of the dragon shouted, and flames licked at the stones. Almiri took a step back, growing uncomfortably warm in her furs. She felt a hand clamp down on her arm and drag her out of the building. The next thing she knew, she and Ulfric were running side by side.

When Almiri finally stopped running, she leaned against the wall, not ten feet in front of them the dragon had landed. She sucked in her breaths quickly, turning to look at Ulfric, "Why did you help me?"

He watched her silently, his eyes studying her as the air from the dragon's wings whipped her hair around. She scowled at his silence, shaking her head before continuing to move. Almiri made it down the alleyway and out in front of the door to the keep before she realized that Ulfric was no longer behind her.

"You! Come on, into the keep!"

Almiri hesitated for only a moment before following behind Ralof into the keep. As she snuck through the tunnels with him, she tried not to think about why she felt concerned for Ulfric, instead chalked it up to owing him for helping her. A strange feeling coiled in her stomach, though she knew her father was a Nord, and even her mother had been part Nord, everything that the Forsworn had told her, even her earliest memories, was that Nords were to be hated. That they had been the cause for her people's exile. They were the Reachmen and so the Reach belonged to them, but why did she not feel any hatred towards Ralof as they continued further into the cavern.

Did she want to hate the Nords?

* * *

When they finally walked beneath the bridge and into Riverwood, Almiri's skin was slick with sweat. Her body ached from the constant travel and she would give anything for a hot bath. She followed Ralof to his sister, Gertrude, and they told her their story. Almiri was all too aware of the debt she owed Ulfric and it weighed heavily on her mind. She had never been indebted to anyone in her life, and she made sure to repay all favors she received. Almiri accepted Gertrude's help reluctantly, following Gertrude to her home.

After she had a clean body, and a full belly, she set off to return the favor. Her task was simple, warn Jarl Balgruuf of the danger so that he could send guards to protect Riverwood. She made it to the gates of Whiterun before nightfall, but was far too tired to continue. After purchasing a room at the Inn for the night she settled into her bed and pulled the journal from her bag.

 **Windhelm 4E 162**

 _The stone walls stare down at me, calling me stranger, trespasser, enemy. I'm all too aware of the lingering gazes as I walk through her streets. Though I chose to not wear my Forsworn armor, it is still clear by my clothing that I am not a Nord. I will purchase new clothes and write later..._

 _After removing my war paint and donning a dress I find their stares of a different nature. I do not like the dress, it constricts my movements and makes breathing more difficult than it should be. My face feels naked to their eyes, as if they can plainly see my thoughts._

 _I've heard the Palace of Kings is a splendor to behold and hope to gain passage into its halls. Perhaps the guards will let me in now that I look more appealing to their culture..._

 _Never in my life have I met such a man blind to anything other than war and strife. Hrongar claimed to be on business for his brother, but business or no he is a crude man that I wish I had never met. After spilling his drink on me, he made no apologies, only a drunken request for 'my services'. If I had my blade I would have sheathed it in his stomach. Pity. Of course, I did not, and would have likely been killed by his comrades had I done it._

 _However, a man did come to my aid. A Nord, no less. Though he looked anything but a kind gentleman that was exactly what he showed himself to be. After guiding me to a room where a maid brought me clean clothing, he asked if there was anything else I required. I wonder if, perhaps, that I did not look so much like a Nord, he would have treated me the same._

 _I find myself wondering about him even as I do the most trivial tasks. Perhaps I will return to Windhelm._

The walk to Dragonsreach was a short one, but Almiri was grateful for her full night's sleep nonetheless. The guards eyed her curiously when she entered and she found herself quickly approached at sword point, "What's the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

"Gertrude of Riverwood sent me…regarding the dragon. Riverwood is in danger."

"Well, that explains why the guards let you in. Come on then, the Jarl will want to speak with you personally."

Almiri followed the housecarl with a frown, what made this Jarl so special? Because he had a chair? He sat around on his ass? You wouldn't catch a Forsworn chief so idle. No, their existence was a challenge, a battle each and every day.

"So," the blonde haired Jarl said, "You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"I did. It destroyed Helgen and flew this way."

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" He looked towards his Steward, "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

The Dunmer, Irileth, stepped forward. "My Lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains…"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus blanched, "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him."

Almiri's attention snapped back to the conversation at the mention of Ulfric. Her anger boiled, but her stomach tightened with uncertainty. She knew he had saved her life. That much she could not deny, but why had he done it?

"Enough!" the Jarl shouted, "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl."

As Irileth went off to tend this task, the Steward bowed returning to his duties. The Jarl gave his thanks and shifted in his throne. "There is another thing you could do for me."

Almiri scowled at the Jarl, who sat slumped in his throne a look of mild disinterest on his face, "No."

With that she stalked out of the keep. On her way down the steps she noticed a familiar face, it was the woman from Helgen. Almiri cocked her head, she looked much different than before. Standing tall with a seductive grin on her face she was side by side with one of the Companions. Almiri shook her head and continued on her way. By the time she made it out of Whiterun and onto the road, the sun was setting.

 **Dawnstar 4E 165**

 _After my stay in Solitude I've decided to return to Windhelm. Though the Bard's College was a special amusement, the tensions around the city are growing and I do not wish to be amidst the violence when it breaks. War is coming, I can feel it._

 _And this King will seek to end it as fast as it starts, he is weak willed and will give in at the first sound opportunity. However, if I've learned anything of these Nords it is that they are the hardiest of all the beings around, they've fought hard to get where they are and weak King or no, they will not bow to outsiders. I've spotted few Thalmor on my travels, they are far more narcissistic than any other race I've encountered, and quite unbearable to be around._

 _I find my mind wandering back to the Palace of Kings, where I shall be in a week's time, if weather permits. I greatly look forward to it. I've seen many of the other cities in this wretched cold land and nothing consumes my mind as much as the home of him. Of that oddly kind Nord. I shall inquire about his name when next I see him…if I see him._

 _I hope I do._

Almiri continued walking through the night, and was thankful for it as she was able to sneak past an encampment of bandits, who no doubt would have killed her for her money… not that she had much to begin with. The road wove its way through the mountains, and it was a few short weeks before Almiri would sleep in a bed instead of a cave, or beneath the canopy of the trees. She sighed with delight when she saw a mill ahead, and thoughts of a warm meal filled her mind.

Almiri paused, her magic telling her of the danger before her weary body registered the signs. There were no sounds of nature, not a bird or cricket dared make itself known. She sighed when she heard the force of the wind, as the wings of the creature beat. A soft rhythm that grew louder as the dragon flew closer. Almiri turned to watch its fast approach, with a bow in one hand and a spell on the tip of her tongue. In the distance, guards from the city shouted and she could hear the sounds of chains as the gate was risen. The clack of armor dulled in her mind as she focused on her power. The soft familiar feeling inside her body swelled and her ward was at full strength by the time the dragon's flames flicked outward. Though increasingly hot, Almiri was unharmed.

She danced around the beast as it landed, pausing only for a second as she released her poison tipped arrow. Behind her arrows flew forth, while most bounced off the dragon's strong scales, a few managed to find their target. Almiri never stopped her attacks, switching from bow to spell. She was careful of her own limitations as they wore the creature down. She did not want to resort to using her Thu'um lest these people ask for her help as well. She would mortally wound the beast and then leave with the quickness before the soul could be consumed.

Though Almiri knew part of her longed for that feeling. Its warmth would fill her body, rejuvenating her lost strength. Whispers of its memories would tell stories in her mind, the dragon's power and magic melding into her own. She shuddered at the thought, her distraction bringing unforeseen consequences. The dragon's tale whipped around smacking Almiri's stomach, sending her flying into the warrior behind her. She felt the large hands clamp down on her as they tumbled to the ground.

Spitting her own hair from her mouth, Almiri struggled to stand. She brushed herself off, ready to dash back into the fray when she heard the familiar deep voice grumble at her.

"You!" she said accusingly, "What are you doing here?"

Ulfric scowled, "What am I- do you even know where you are?"

Almiri picked up her bow, "We have no time for foolish questions. We must fight," she said as she spun about, releasing another arrow, only to follow up with a spell of ice. The crystalline spears, finishing what the arrow had not. Ulfric gave an indignant grunt, before charging the beast with his blade. Almiri watched mesmerized as he moved with a speed and grace that the other soldiers lacked. He combined his power with his greatsword, with the strength of his Thu'um and Almiri's body tingled with the feeling of it, as if her own Thu'um called out to him.

When he pulled his sword from the dragon's head, Almiri realized that it was finally dead. It's body fell limp. This ancient being that many thought was only folklore, lay before her. Almiri stumbled backwards as her body began to fill with a warm sensation. She tipped her head back, letting the voice of the dragon's soul whisper to her. The dragon's body burned away into flakes of ash and light, which spirited past Ulfric, coming to rest within Almiri.

Ulfric turned to watch as she stood, unmoving before him. Her golden brown hair danced in the wind and he found himself lost for words. It was beautiful. He gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, watching as her eyes slowly opened and rested on his face. The Dragonborn.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Fus! Ro! Dah!"_

 **Windhelm 4E 201**

Almiri gasped as the feeling began to subside. Her eyes locked with Ulfric and she noticed that he was staring at her in a peculiar sort of way, as though she were this ancient being to be amazed by. More magnificent than the dragon they had just killed. It made her stomach flop and her lips turned downward. "What?" she demanded, tightening the belt that held her quiver.

Ulfric tensed his jaw and wiped his blade clean, sheathing it. This Forsworn woman – _half_ , he reminded himself – was the Dragonborn? Memories of blood-filled streets flashed before his eyes, a fallen gate, a call to arms. He had almost forgotten his own deeds, almost forgotten the Reachmen that died at the end of his blade. His body had burned with the energy of his freshly used Thu'um, it was the odd sensation that followed that he would never forget. Ulfric had felt a sizzling, a tingling of connection. It was then that his eyes found a small blue-grey pair and locked. It was a young girl hiding beneath a bridge.

He had been the one to exile her people, the one to put fear in her childish features, and now she was exactly the sort of person that he needed on his side. He glanced about them, snow beginning to fall. "You should accompany me to the Palace of Kings."

He watched as her eyes lit up in recognition, a look that puzzled him. He would certainly know if she had been there before. Of course, the Palace of Kings did have quite the reputation. Almiri watched him shake out his cloak and lead the way. If she hadn't known in that moment that he mother had spent time in the Palace of Kings she would have contemplated shooting him in the back for a minute longer than she did.

"And if I do not want to go?" she asked defiantly, staring up at his broad shoulders. He spun on his heel, his cloak swinging so close to her face that she felt a soft brush of fur against her chest. He glared down at her.

"Let me be clear. This is not a request. You, Almiri, are standing in Windhelm territory. We're _going_ to the Palace."

With a sigh, she grumbled to herself, "And just who does this Nord think he is? Tiber Septim?" She marched behind him with a storm of thoughts wreaking havoc in her head. Her eyes dancing between his braided blonde hair and the tracks he left in the icy snow beneath their feet. When they reached the gates of Windhelm, Almiri agreed with her mother. The stone walls did seem to watch her, yet instead of calling her stranger, instead of calling her trespasser or enemy, they seemed to welcome her back. The odd feeling of familiarity overwhelmed her so much that she passed through the doors of the Palace of Kings without a word.

"Sit. Eat." Ulfric commanded to Almiri before he turned to a servant who hastily followed the orders he barked. Within minutes the same servant had returned with a plate full of food, which she placed in front of Almiri. She watched the meek Dunmer slink back to the kitchen and eyed her plate full of food.

Ulfric had not stayed with her. Once she sat he had walked to the back of the hall, stepping into a room to the left. If she tried hard enough, Almiri could hear voices, but they were not quite loud enough for her to discern the words. She ate the food and sipped at her ale. Then she tipped her chair back on two legs, kicking her feet up on the table and pulling out her mother's journal.

 **Shadowed Grove 4E 165**

 _I am stuck in this damned forest and this horrid weather has more than doubled my travel time. If the Nords want Skyrim, they can have it! I am sick of this horrendous weather. I might have to make a sacrifice to a Daedric prince if I want to reach Windhelm before the year is up._

 _Of course, the daedra might be more likely to worsen my situation just for the fun of it. Sheogorath would definitely have fun driving me mad. Well, ha! With this rain I will die far before then. I've been huddled under this tent for nearly three hours now. It is quite – wait…I can hear horses approaching._

 _It was him, or….well, he was among the hunting party that found me. We are now just a day's ride from Windhelm, with only a few stops to rest and feed the horses, I can't imagine that I would have even traveled half as far without their help._

 _The longer I'm around him the harder I find it to feign indifference. He is still unusually kind. Some nights I can see him watching me from across the campfire. His gaze is warm, he doesn't look at me as an outsider… we've even spoken. Lately, he has taken to showing me the figures in the stars and the amazing tales that go with them._

 _I enjoy listening to his voice. It isn't the melodic thrum of a bards, it's harder, but his emotions feel more genuine. Perhaps I am nothing more than a silly girl, but I could easily fall asleep listening to him._

"Just a bit of light reading?"

The husky voice jolted her in the chair and she began to fall backwards, her feet falling off the table. Almiri felt the warmth of his hands brush her arms as they clamped down on the chair, setting it down on all four legs.

"It's…it," Almiri cleared her throat and tucked the journal back into her bag, "Did you want something?"

Ulfric smiled, "I've had a room prepared for you."

Almiri stood. "Ah, yes, my prison awaits me." She turned towards him, "Lead the way?"

His disapproval was more than evident on his face, but he led her down a hall and up a set of stairs, to a decently sized room. "You will be staying here."

"And for how long is my imprisonment?"

Ulfric growled, gripping Almiri's arm and pressing her roughly against the wall. Ulfric's words, which she assumed would be less than polite, were drowned out by a loud thunderous noise. It was as if thunder spoke across the sky. Almiri could feel her body buzzing, her Thu'um coming alive inside her. "That was…"

"The Greybeards," Ulfric finished, his warm breath tingling against her skin. "They call for the dragonborn."

Almiri watched his face, all traces of his anger gone, replaced with…something else. He seemed lost in thought. She raised a hand, placing it against his chest and pushing him away from her. "No. No, I'm not the…the….I'm not who they want. I am not the dragonborn."

Ulfric laughed. "You cannot tell me what my eyes saw was a lie. You _are_ the dragonborn."

She brushed past him. "I'm tired. Please leave."

Ulfric studied her small form as she crawled forward on the bed. She did not look back at him as she unlaced her boots and kicked them to the floor. He was barely able to look away when the wolf skins of her armor fell to the floor. As he walked from the room and down the stairs he told himself that his blood was pumping harder because of the Thu'um, but his body told him otherwise. Sleep did not come easily that night.

Almiri hugged the bed and smiled against the soft cloth. She hadn't slept so well in… _in all my life_ , she smiled. With a reluctant sigh, Almiri climbed from the bed. She nearly had a heart attack when her eyes settled on the bath with steaming water in the corner. She didn't bother to guess how they knew when she would be awake, she only stripped the rest of her clothing and sunk into the warm water.

"By Aedroth, this is so…" Almiri moaned into the bath, "amazing." She felt the dried dirt and sweat wash away and after a quick scrub she was out of the water and redressing.

Ulfric sat in his throne, impatiently awaiting his…guest. He remained impassive when she sauntered in, mostly dressed and hair dripping wet. His eyes watched as the cloth clung more to her wet body with each movement. She wore dark leather trousers and a loose tunic with a plunging neckline. "Good morning," she said, smirking knowingly.

The Jarl stood, "You're leaving once you've finished eating."

"How kind of you to let me finish," Almiri preened mockingly.

She slowly tore a piece of chicken holding her tongue out as she placed the white meat in her mouth. She chew it just as slowly, her eye never leaving Ulfric's face. She was certain his patience would run out soon. While not an entirely unreasonable man, Ulfric was quick to anger. Almiri amused herself with the thought of teaching this murderer some semblance of patience.

She turned her body towards him. "And just where am I going, _my_ _Jarl_?"

Ulfric studied her shifting grey eyes, they were irritated and yet seemed to be laughing at him. She was toying with him, and he knew there was no way she would just willingly march off to High Hrothgar. He couldn't say that he had been too thrilled to go there himself when he was younger, but as Dragonborn her stay would be much shorter than his own. "We're going to Ivarstead."

Almiri took a sip from her goblet. She had never heard of Ivarstead, but she assumed it must be close to High Hrothgar. He wanted her to go to the Greybeards. "We?"

"Yes, I will be accompanying you there so that you do not try to run. You may not be a Nord – at least not a full one – but even _you_ understand the dangers of the Empire. They tried to kill you, same as us, without any thought of who you were. The sons and daughters of Skyrim need you. They need their Dragonborn."

She dropped her piece of bread, but before she could speak he stood. "Good. You're finished."

Ulfric walked back to his war room, leaving Almiri sitting in the hall alone. She looked around for a way to escape. So far everything had been relatively civil between them, but she wasn't about to become his slave in the war. Almiri had seen him slaughter the Reachmen without batting an eyelash, she wouldn't be a part of that.

She rushed back to her room, gathering her armor and tightening the laces and hooking belts as fast as her fingers could snap them into place. She stuffed a few supplies into her bag and snuck back down the stairs. It was easy enough for her to sneak past the mindless guards and down to the front gate. Everything felt too easy, but with minutes she was out of the gates and walking away.

It wasn't until she reached the stables that she saw him. Ulfric was astride a horse, a smug look of knowing on his face. Behind him were four soldiers, Almiri thought she recognized one from Helgen. Ulfric held the reigns of another horse beside him. "Ready?"

Almiri kept her face impassive though she could easily have been angry enough to tackle him from atop the horse and onto the ground. "Of course," she replied evenly, lifting herself into the saddle. Before she moved he leaned in closer, taking her daggers form her. "You won't be needing these."

He led the way, and she road slightly behind him, imaging a target painted on his broad back or within his golden hair. It almost irritated her the way he never checked behind him to see if she was still there. He would only tell her when they were changing direction, and occasionally ask her if she was hungry.

When evening began to fall she looked about her, they were in the middle of a forest, but Ulfric showed no signs of stopping. Instead, he road on until there was nothing but the stars to light their way. Almiri contemplated using her magelight to brighten their way, but the thought of the spell made her recoil with the memory of his treachery.

Almiri fell into a stony silence and didn't bother to help him collect wood for the fire. She stood there brooding as she watched him fumble with his flint and stone. She easily could have lit the fire, but she didn't trust herself to not hurt him in the process. It was an extremely tempting thought, but considering how their last fight went, if she wanted to win she would need to make sure she had the upper hand. Not to mention there were four other stormcloaks there.

"It shouldn't take us longer than a week to get to Ivarstead," Ulfric said, watching her from across the fire. "You should sleep, my men will take the first watch."

"Easier said than done," she grumbled to herself. Almiri could think of a dozen childhood friends who would likely kill her just for associating with him. Now she was just supposed to fall asleep by a campfire knowing he would be sleeping just feet away.

Almiri caught his gaze from across the fire. "Good night, _Bear of Markarth._ "


	4. Chapter 4

_"How high the mountains of Skyrim rise."_

 **Uttering Hills 4E 201**

Ufric's eyes burned with anger, she could easily see the tension in his body, the clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he worked to bite back what was clearly a nasty retort. But Almiri did not care. She would not let him forget, not when she could never forget that day. Her life had never been the same, she could hardly even remember anything before that day. All she knew was the Reachmen, her mother's people, had become the Forsworn that day. And she was one of them.

At least, that's what Almiri told herself as she shifted down on her bedroll. She'd come out here to find out who the man her mother had written about in her journal so much, to find out who her father was and what had kept her mother away for so many years. Then what made her return to Markarth. Amiri needed to know why when she slept she remember a man, but not his face.

She squeezed her eyes shut and within the hour sleep found her. For Ulfric, sleep never came. He stared at her sleeping figure, anger still simmering. He'd wanted to throttle her when she'd called him by that name. The Bear of Markarth was a filthy work of propaganda by and Imperial soldier, and the mere mention of it set his blood afire.

He never had, nor would he ever kill an innocent. He would not claim that he didn't kill any Reachmen, but that was war. They thought they could take over Markarth simply because the rest of Skyrim was at war. They took advantage of Skyrim's weakness and he would not forgive them for such petty and dishonorable actions. Not when the Aldmeri Dominion was at their doorsteps, not when the high elves butchered his people and used the Imperials as puppets for their play.

Ulfric watched her toss and turn restlessly, his own exhaustion slowly overcoming him. Her hair looked dull brown everywhere except for where the flames reflected off the golden strands that fell across her face, covering her eyes and part of her mouth. Her breath was silent beneath the crackle of the campfire, but between breaths she would murmur words.

"Mama, why? ... I don't understand ... where are we going? ...isn't papa coming too?"

Ulfric shifted onto his back, his eyes glaring at the stars. Charting a path from the familiar lights. She may have made him furious, but he still didn't wish to hear what were clearly private thoughts. He could remember the day they met, she'd hated him with a fiery passion. She couldn't have been older than ten when they'd taken over Markarth and there was no way she'd understood the politics behind what had happened that day.

Ulfric buried his head beneath his fur cloak, groaning into the gray hairs. He needed sleep not a guilty conscience.

* * *

 _Almiri rolled over in bed, listening to the sound of a storm howling outside. Papa had promised to take her with him hunting, but if the storm continued then she knew he wouldn't be going, which meant no escaping the Palace for her. Almiri flipped the furs down onto the floor and tiptoed out of her bedroom and down the hall. The sun hadn't come up yet, which meant if she was lucky, neither were her parents._

 _Almiri leaned into the doorway, seeing the large heaping figure of her father, and the mocha waves of her mother's hair. She grinned to herself, dashing past the door and down the steps. She tugged the blanket from her bed and snuck down to the kitchen. If she was going on a hunt then she would need food. Almiri grabbed the biggest slice of cheese she could hold and a loaf of bread, tucking them into a small sack and folding them into her rolled up blanket._

 _She was headed towards the main hall when she realized that she couldn't hunt without a weapon. Almiri left her supplies by the door and crept towards the armory. There was a large variety of weapons, but she knew that most were too big for her. Instead she grabbed a smaller battle axe, barely keeping it from clanging against the stone floor when the unexpected weight of it pressed against her palms. She heaved it higher, resting the heaviest part against her shoulder and slinking back down to the great hall to gather the rest of her supplies._

 _"And where exactly do you think you're going?"_

 _Almiri jumped, spinning on her heel to see a bear in the doorway. She shrunk away from the looming shadow. "On...an adventure?" she replied tentatively. Her papa stared down at her, his bearded face scowling._

 _"An adventure? Hmm...And what have you got with you?"_

 _Almiri grinned. "A blanket, cheese and bread from the kitchen, and this!" she said excitedly, struggling to lift the battle axe. Her papa laughed and it vibrated in his chest, echoing throughout the room. When he caught his breath he looked down at his daughter._

 _"Well, aren't you the little warrior. Where are you planning to go with all of this?"_

 _She frowned. "You said we could go hunting," Almiri mumbled, tapping a the toes of her right foot on the floor._

 _Her papa knelt down in front of her, his smile slowly fading. He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it so that Almiri was looking at him. He stared at her intently. "We will go as soon as this storm ends. I promise."_

 _"Okay..."_

 _"Now, why don't why don't we put all this back before everyone else wakes up?"_

 _Almiri sighed, "Yes, Papa."_

 _The large man lifted her up onto his shoulders and they snuck through the palace, putting everything in it's rightful place. When they reached their quarters, Almiri's mother was standing just outside the door. "What are you two up to?"_

 _Her papa grinned. "Nothing much."_

 _Almiri giggled and her mother rolled her eyes, sauntering back into the room._

 **Pinepeak Cavern 4E 201**

Almiri shifted in the saddle, her body sore from all the riding and her stomach grumbling about the lack of food it was receiving. She thought about stopping, making something to eat, but she didn't want to. She didn't even want to speak to him. Ulfric still hadn't abandoned his civil behavior towards her, but she could see the irritation in his movements, sometimes she would even push him further.

He held up his fist, halting the train of horses. "We're stopping. Holgir, feed the horses. Ivarr feed _her_ ," he said pointing towards Almiri, "I can hear her stomach growling from here."

Almiri glared at him. _My stomach growled **once**. _ She was off her horse, and sitting at the outskirts of the camp as soon as the meal was finished cooking. Ulfric didn't seem to mind or have any fear of her running off, but every so often she would catch him watching her. Studying her more like.

He wasn't trying to hide it. He almost looked as though he were daring her to run, as if he would enjoy the chase. Curious, Almiri picked up her food and walked over to sit next to Ulfric. She plopped down beside him and stared into his passive face. "Why are _you_ taking me to Ivarstead? You're the Jarl. Don't you have some rebellion to lead or another King to kill?"

The man she knew as Holgir, snapped towards her. "Watch your tongue, you b–

"It's alright, Holgir," Ulfric said, holding his hand up. Almiri slipped a hand behind his back grabbing the blade sheathed there and hiding it underneath her cloak. Holgir went back to brushing down the horses and Almiri watched Ulfric, waiting for some response. He took her hand, placing in in the center of his chest. Then he took his right hand and placed it on hers, then quickly licked his lips, opening them just the slightest. " _Tiid_!"

His thu'um passed softly through his lips, quiet but forceful. Her hand on his chest vibrated, sending tingles up her arm. She sucked in a breath, the warmth of his hand pressing down on her heaving chest. Time slowed and he slid his hand higher, fingers over her pulse. Her stomach tensed, the muscles coiling as she leaned forward, her lips forming the words. "What... are... you... doing?"

He leaned closer yet, his breath caressing her face. " _Kio!"_

Ulfric's hand moved upward, tangling in her hair. He brought her closer as his other hand wrapping around her waist. He whispered the last word, " _Ul!_ " before his mouth slanted over hers. His lips were warm, soft, yielding. Almiri pressed closer, her mouth opening to his demands. His tongue flicked in quickly, tasting her.

A warmth spread through her chest and curled into her stomach, making it flop. She sighed, her hand gripping his arm and sliding upward to his shoulder. Their tongues were battling for dominance when he grabbed her leg, moving a hand behind her knee and pulling Almiri onto his lap. From there his hands slid up her waist and around to her back.

Almiri jolted, time flowing back in its normal speed, the feel of cold metal on her skin. Ulfric leaned away, leaving her gasping for air. He merely smiled down at her, twisting the hilt of the stolen blade. "I don't believe this belongs to you."

She glared at him, standing with a clear look of disgust on her face. The only question was whether she was more disgusted in him or herself. She'd let him kiss her... hell, she'd done a lot more than just _let him_. She actually _liked_ it. She'd even kissed him back.

Almiri stomped over to her bedroll, throwing herself down on it unceremoniously, huffing when he looked her way. She quickly wrapped a blanket around herself and ignored the snickering soldiers.

"Fucking Stormcloaks."

She pulled her mother's journal from her bag and began reading.

 **Windhelm 4E 166**

 _I have been a guest at the Palace of Kings for nearly three months now. These Nords are nothing like my father described them. They are passionate, and kind. They have much to learn in the way of acceptance, but I would be willing to… stay. And teach them._

 _I no longer mind how much colder it is this far in the north, not that Markarth was ever warm. Galmar has promised met fair treatment, and in a fortnight there will be a festival celebrating Talos. I do not know much about Talos, but Galmar has begun teaching me. It is amazing to learn of one man accomplishing so much._

 _It is even more amazing to see the love that the people have for Talos, not just the Nords, but perhaps especially them. To unite the Empire and be granted a place at the eight divines' side… he must have been great indeed._

A foot collided with Almiri's leg, rocking her to the side. Fahim stood above her, a look of amusement on his face. "We're leaving. Get up."

"By Aedroth, you Stormcloaks are so polite. You know just how to make a lady feel accepted."

Sure, she'd tried to steal a weapon from Ulfric, but it wasn't as if they actually believed that she was a willing companion. They wanted the dragonborn and she wanted just as much to not be the dragonborn.

"You're no lady," Holgir muttered as he packed up the last of the cooking supplies. He was promptly elbowed in the gut by Ivarr who gestured over to Ulfric, before going back to saddling his horse; not wanting to be caught up in the punishment. Ulfric was glaring daggers at Holgir, who muttered something resembling an apology to Almiri.

She chuckled, _he_ _isn't exactly wrong._

They mounted their horses and continued down the trail. Ulfric expected them to reach Ivarstead by nightfall, where Ivarr and Holgir would get new supplies while she, Ake, Fahim, and Ulfric would take the steps. The closer they got to Ivarstead the nicer the area was. The road was up kept, and the trees were not so dense. The town itself wasn't so large, but well-lit by torches. It was not large enough to have their own stables, but there was a spot to tie up their horses outside the local in.

Almiri had learned from the villagers that there were seven thousand steps up to High Hrothgar. These bearded old men must be rather special for someone to want to climb up seven _thousand_ steps. Almiri was just hoping that they would rest before they took to the steps. Aedroth knew her legs would fall apart if they didn't. In dismounting alone, Almiri felt the stiffness of her legs, and a small ache in her back.

Ulfric tossed a small pouch to Ake, "Purchase some rooms at the Inn."

Almiri almost collapsed in relief, leaning against her horse, Lexus, and giving him extra affection. She even gave Lexus an apple before following Ake into the tavern. Upon entering she had to dunk as a tankard slammed into the door behind her. The ale sloshed against the wood, leaving honey smelling streaks down the door.

Almiri turned back to see a barmaid shouting a young woman, who was easily dodging the stream of items being thrown at her. The woman wore light leather armor, and a pouch that was filled up with coins. Her hair was in a loose braid, the sunny strands falling around her face.

She was certainly beautiful, and quite obviously angry. "Svidi! Stop–

"My name isn't Svidi!" the barmaid shouted back, a plate shattering behind the woman speaking to her.

"Oh, for the love of Dibella!" The armored woman grumbled, tackling the barmaid to the floor. They wrestled briefly before she came out on top, huffing to get a hair from her eyes. She tugged the barmaid from the floor and dragged her into a room across the way.

The room settled quickly after the sound of the slamming door. Almiri looked around, but no one seemed very concerned at the display. She scanned the room, quickly spotting Ake's tall form across the room. She marched over to him, "Which room is mine?"

He huffed. "Who says you get a room to yourself? You may not be a prisoner, lass, but you're no guest either."

Almiri glared at him. "And you think I'll willingly stay in a room with _you_?"

"No," a gruff voice said from behind them. Almiri turned to see Ulfric staring down at her. He looked vaguely amused at the look on her face, and more than happy with himself. _Smug bastard_ , Almiri thought. "You'll be sharing a room with me."

Almiri blinked at him, mostly certain that he hadn't been joking, but sorely hoping that he was. Her voice was full of sarcasm when she said, "Lovely."


	5. Chapter 5

_"The Empire, in its wisdom,_ has _come to recognize Talos worship as a barbaric remnant of a bygone age."_

 **Ivarstead 4E 201**

Almiri stared at the paneled wall, her heart beating steadily despite the raging of her nerves. She could feel the heat emanating from the body next to her. The bed was too small. The room was too small. She'd contemplated sleeping on the floor, but as soon as she tried to sneak out of the room to get a bedroll she'd seen Fahim guarding the door. When Almiri had walked back in Ulfric was laying there, one arm under his head, looking smug. There was a brief moment of embarrassment before her anger took over. "Not a prisoner," they said. She huffed, _what_ _bullshit_.

The room started out toasty warm, but as the fire in the main hall cooled to embers the room's temperature dropped and she no longer wondered why they had wool blankets _and_ furs on the bed. Almiri swallowed her pride and slide under the blankets, sighing in content at the warmth that greeted her. By now she was used to sleeping among these near-strangers, but the first few nights she refused to sleep. The deprivation took its toll and now she had no fear of her throat being cut in the night by one of his soldiers. She knew Ulfric wouldn't hurt her -at least not fatally- he wanted his _dragonborn_ to aid him in the fight for his rightful place as king. And she was just supposed to nod her head like a slack jawed fool and do whatever he said. Almiri may not have been sure about her life with the Forsworn, but that didn't mean she was suddenly gung-ho for Talos.

Almiri rolled onto her back, her arm brushing against Ulfric's. She could hear the soft puffs of his breathing and groaned. He was already asleep and she was laying here like fool contemplating her own religious beliefs. Almiri rolled over to face him. He was relaxed, his hair splayed out on the pillowed, and his lips slightly parted. She could see the stubble from his days gone without shaving and wondered what it felt like. Her eyes shifted to his hair, it was lighter than her own, and she smiled lightly at the two braids on either side. Almiri absentmindedly touched her own hair, wondering if she should braid hers to keep in out of her face.

She reached forward and let her fingers trail down the braid. Almiri checked to see that Ulfric hadn't moved at all before she moved her hand across his cheek, feeling the stubble against her palm. She traced her finger across the scar on his cheek. She was in the middle of wondering how he'd gotten the scar when Ulfric breathed in sharply. Almiri jumped back in, "For the love of Aedroth!" She sighed and rolled back over to her small section of the bed, facing the wall. _What was I thinking?_

"You should be sleeping." Almir jolted in the bed falling forward and nearly onto the floor. Ulfric caught her, and pulled her back up. "Unless, of course, you'd rather see my other scars."

She could hear from his voice that he was rather pleased with himself, and let out a hiss of a breath. Her face was hot with the knowledge of having been caught, and she was thankful that he couldn't see her blush. "No, why would I - just no! Let go of me. Now."

Ulfric chuckled, "I don't believe you."

"Too bad," Almiri huffed, struggled to get out of his arms.

She felt the bed shift as he rolled closer. "I think you're lying," he placed a hand on her hip. "And you want me."

The feel of his breath on her neck, sent tingles down his spine. "N-no, I-

His hand slid up her stomach and she gasped, all protests lost in his touch. Ulfric deftly unlaced her bodice so it no longer clung tightly to her chest. His chin hooked over her shoulder and he tugged her against his chest. One hand slid between her legs, tickling her upper thigh, while the other brushed against her breast. Her breathing was harsh and she could feel her body flush, a warmth building at the apex of her thighs.

His lips brushed kisses along her neck and she arched back into him. "Say it," he whispered, groaning as she rubbed against his erection.

"I- she gasped as he flipped her, hovering over her as he trailed kisses down her chest, "...want you."

Ulfric smiled up at her and he worked his way down, quickly tugged at the laces of her trousers before hooking his fingers over the edge and tugging them down. "Good," he said, sliding his hands back up her bare legs.

Almiri knew that she should've felt the cold chill of the room, but all she could think of, all she could feel, was his hands on her body and how good it felt. When his fingers slipped inside her she gasped, grabbing a pillow and biting it to keep from crying out. Holgir, Ake, and Ivar were in the rooms beside them and Fahim was just outside.

Almiri struggled to keep quiet as his mouth paid special attention to her breasts. With one hand fondling her left breast, his lips latched onto her right nipple. Her hands found their way into his golden hair as her hips bucked against his plunging fingers. Her self-control was at it's limits when he finally pulled his fingers out. Almiri felt like the air was sucked from her lungs and just as she caught her breath he was kissing her. She lifted herself up to him, wrapping her legs around him. "Ulfric!" she moaned, between kisses.

He smiled against her lips, "Yes, Almiri?" he asked, lifting his head and gazing down at her.

Almiri bucked her hips, "Please!" He shifted between her legs and she closed her eyes, waiting for him to make his move.

"Almiri," he said, his voice growing annoyed. She looked up at him, confused. "Almiri! Wake up!" Almiri bolted forward in the bed, gasping. Hovering above her, was Ulfric, looking mildly annoyed at her. She grasped at the blankets, her body still trembling slightly. "Get up. We're leaving."

She frowned at him, tossing back the covers and stuffing her feet into her boots, quickly lacing them up. She hurriedly grabbed her cloak and bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder. Almiri followed Ulfric out of the Inn and immediately stopped in her tracks. "The sun is not even up!"

"It will be in an hour," he said dryly, swinging himself up onto his horse. She wanted to stab him, not that it was a new urge, but she was especially upset. She could handle getting up early, but it wasn't even morning. _Why in Aedroth's name was he so upset with me?!_

She mounted her horse, muttering a slew of insults as she traveled along behind them. Ake road beside her, presumably because it was his turn to babysit, while Fahim scouted out ahead. While traveling up seven thousand steps seemed like a relatively mundane task, Almiri knew they could encounter sabres, wolves, or, if they were unlucky enough, trolls. None of which she was particularly fond of.

Holgir and Ivar accompanied them to the start of the steps, where Ake, Fahim, Ulfric, and Almiri dismounted their horses. They wouldn't take the chance of a troll encounter killing their fastest mode of transportation. Almiri looked at the Stormcloaks around her. "Do I get my weapons back now?"

Ake laughed like it was an absurd suggestion. Ulfric, on the other hand, still couldn't look at her without thinking about that morning. He had woken up abruptly when she thrashed towards him, he moved to grab her, thinking that she was having a nightmare. She was not.

The sounds of her moans still echoed in his head, inducing the same tangled heat and frustration as it had that morning. He turned away abruptly, marching up the steps in silence, hoping that the combination of exercise and cold wind would calm his body. Almiri on the other hand was growing more angry with each step. He was _rude_ , he _wasn't even talking to her_ , and she could _die!_

 _Well, that's not likely to happen, but still...they don't know that._ She fumed over their idiocy while checking her bag for mana potions. She wasn't sure how they would react to the use of magic, but between being mauled to death by a troll and facing Ulfric's wrath, she was definitely leaning towards the latter. She counted four potions, and hoped they would last her to the top of the mountain, she didn't even want to think about the journey back down. Instead, she tucked her hair back into the hood of her cloak, wrapping a scarf around her nose, so only her eyes peeked through. The crisp icy wind stung her face, and stiffened her joints to an achingly slow pace. Almiri had lost count of the steps around a thousand, and for the most part they were worn and covered with snow. As they continued upward she spotted foxes and rabbits, but so far nothing dangerous. She'd taken to reading the stones by small altars to entertain herself as they waited for their scout -either Fahim or Ake- to return.

Almiri was reading one such stone when an echo reached her ears, though faint she could definitely tell it was the sounds of agonizing screams. Any doubt she may have had about what she heard was extinguished when a body landed with a thud a yard of up the path. Ake was dead.

Fahim had already unsheathed his sword by the time Almiri turned around. They were ready to rush off, but Almiri was left standing without a weapon. She glanced down at Ake and cursed before jogging off after them. By the looks of it, a troll had caused that beating. She flexed her hands, feeling the magic tingle. It had been too long since she'd practiced and it was taking longer than she'd hoped to summon the flames.

Trolls regenerated their health insanely fast, and there was no way they- Almiri stopped in her tracks. Fahim and Ulfric were standing above a dead troll, blood splattered across their armor and smeared up their weapons. She blinked at them. That was certainly a lot faster than she'd expected. Sighing, Almiri let her magic fade away to the wisps of energy that it began from.

To her left she spotted another troll and swore, calling out for them to move. Only Ulfric managed to move in time, leaving Fahim to be knocked back across the icy rocks. Almiri dashed forward, grabbing Fahim's hand and helping him scramble up before he fell over the edge. She summoned her flames again, shooting them in small bursts so as to not wear herself out. Between her uses of Magic, Fahim and Ulfric struck, making sure that the Troll never had a chance to regenerate its health.

When it was all over Almiri leaned against the mountain, sucking in the frigid air. "Well, this has been fun, but I'm not going any further until one of you gives me a weapon." She turned and looked at Ulfric, "Preferably the ones you took from me."

Ulfric glanced at the dead trolls, her hands, then back up to her face. "Doesn't look like you need them."

She gave him a sardonic look, "But I want them."

He smiled, "In that case." He approached Almiri, sliding a dagger into the sheath at her hip. Then sliding one hand down her hip, he gripped her thigh and lifted her leg up. He hooked it around his hip before sliding her second dagger into it's place around her thigh. Almiri shuttered slightly, chalking it up to breeze that chilled the exposed flesh on her arms. His hand lingered on the underside of her thigh, sliding his hand higher as he pulled her closer. He placed the last of her weapons, a small blade that brought a smile to her eyes when she saw it, into its place. He heard he knife click into the sheath between her breasts, but his eyes never left hers.

"Thank. You." she choked out, attempting to remain calm despite the heat that rose throughout her body. He smiled, releasing her.

Almiri pulled away, turning around to continue walking up the steps. The next thousand or so were fairly uneventful. They walked past other travelers and Almiri mused about how crazy someone would have to be to willingly climb these damn steps. She stopped to look up the mountain, they must have been close by now. When she turned her head to the side she could see Ulfric still watching her, so she took off back up the steps.

They encountered ice wolves, and even a bear, but the rest of their not-so-merry band managed to make it to the top in one piece. Ulfric led the way inside, approaching one of the elderly men. Almiri couldn't hear what they were saying, but she was more amused at the men's appearance. Apparently their name was not at all creative; they were all old, bearded, and wearing grey robes.

She wandered around the open space of High Hrothgar, watching the way Ulfric spoke to the man that Almiri assumed was in charge. They seemed familiar with one another and Almiri wondered if Ulfric had enjoyed his time here before. Anyone who knew who Ulfric was knew that before the Great War, he was bound for a life as one of the Greybeards. She tried to imagine Ulfric as a peaceful old man in a robe and began laughing...loudly.

Ulfric glanced over her shoulder, giving her a deadly glare. However, Almiri wasn't paying any attention to Ulfric at that point. Fahim walked over and elbowed her in the stomach, to which she automatically punched him in the shoulder. "What?" she asked, her good mood fading fast.

Fahim gestured to Ulfric and Almiri sucked in a breath, "Oh...my bad."

Almiri resisted the urge to step backwards when Ulfric walked towards her. "This is Arngeir. He will show you the way of the voice." Almiri struggled to not roll her eyes, she'd used the voice once before. What did she need them to teach her? Ulfric picked up his things, and he and Fahim started towards the rooms in the back. He stoped, looking over his shoulder at her. "Just do what they say."

Almiri sighed and turned back to Arg...Arn...whatever his name was. "So...a dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age."

"You're the one who summoned me," Almiri said, annoyed at his skeptical tone. Sure, she killed the dragon and absorbed its soul - something that Almiri was still trying to wrap her head around - but if they didn't believe her then why summon her?

"We'll see if you truly have the gift. Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste of your Voice."


	6. Chapter 6

_"What is better? To be born good or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"_

 **High Hrothgar 4E 201**

Almiri collapsed on the old cot, sighing into the pillow. She was exhausted and all she had done was stupid breathing exercises. Her throat was almost as raw as her nerves. She had proved that she had the gift, this "Voice" that they found special, but that apparently wasn't enough. She was stuck studying under Wulfgar, who had said a grand total of three sentences, all of which were about how to breath.

"The Thu'um is as much air as it is life force."

Almiri rolled onto her back. _What does that even mean?_ She could already do it, so she didn't understand what all the hassle was for. Ulfric didn't seem to mind how long it was all taking, which Almiri found odd because she had pegged him as an impatient man. She certainly wasn't patient enough for it. Almiri sagged into the bed, blindly feeling around for her bag that she had tossed on the floor.

She tugged her mother's journal from its place, opening the book and running her fingers across the worn pages. Some part of her had hoped that reading this journal would help her remember something, _anything_ , from before she was six. So far all she had found out was that her mother was adventurous. Though, tempted as she was to skip forward in the pages, Almiri was afraid she might miss something important. She didn't just want to know who her father was, she _needed_ to know.

 **Palace of Kings 4E 167**

 _I received a letter today. A letter from my father. A man who has not spoken to me in many years... I think it has been nearly seven years now. He is ill and wishes for me to return one last time before he passes. I no longer hold any ill will for the man, yet my husband does not believe I should travel in my state. He doesn't seem to understand that I am pregnant, not an invalid._

 _He, of course, gave in to me. However, we will be accompanied by a small group of his best men._ _We plan to leave tomorrow at sunrise, and I admit I am excited about traveling once again. May my father live to see his grandchild._

Almiri sat up in bed, flipping back the pages to reread the previous entry. There was almost an entire year missing from the journal. She ran her fingers down the rugged edged where they had been torn from the book. She had read her mother's journal time and again and still could find no clues as to why the pages were removed. This was the last entry that made any sense. She frown again at the empty space as though if the journal realized how displeased she was with it, the pages would rematerialize. They did not.

Giving up for the night, Almiri punched her pillow and tugged the furs up to her chin, curling up under the warmth of all the blankets. She thought about all the men her mother came in contact with, the Jarl, who she knew was not her father; his housecarl, who she _hoped_ was not her father; Galmar Stone-fist, who acted as general; any of the soldiers in the hunting party. There were too many options and she was unsure who it could be without meeting them. Some part of her wondered if she would know as soon as she saw him, that she might remember her father's face outside of her dreams. But it had been many years now and he would be older. Almiri groaned into the darkness. Why had her mother been so cautious with names? Who did she fear would read this?

Almiri tossed and turned for the rest of the night, but never managed to sleep more than a few hours. Shortly after the sun rose she knew she should get up, but Almiri just layed in the bed, letting her exhaustion sink in. Outside her door footsteps echoed the impatience of Ulfric. Since they arrived at High Hrothgar he had been so kind as to give her both space and privacy. She wasn't sure if that meant he trusted her or that he knew she wouldn't be able to do anything _stupid_ with the Greybeards around.

He knocked at the door for the third time that morning and Almiri merely groaned in response. The only way they were getting her out of this bed is if they broke down the door and dragged her out. "Go away!" she shouted before pulling a pillow over her head and snuggled further under the covers.

On the other side of the door Ulfric practically growled, but his footsteps retreated and Almiri smiled. She had won.

She placed the pillow back where it was and rolled so that she was no longer facing the wall, unwrapping the blankets from around herself. She got dressed as quickly and quietly as she could, packing her belongings into her bag once she was done. Then she turned and faced the small window. She'd contemplating climbing through it before but two things had always stopped her. First, Ulfric was never more than a few feet away and secondly, she had no idea how far down the drop was.

She yanked the sheets and blankets from the bed, tying them to each other before knotting one end around a bed post. Almiri tied the other end to her bag and then stuffed it through the window. She was halfway through it herself, when she heard a knock at the door. "What?!" she shouted, "I'm getting dressed."

Almiri could vaguely hear an annoyed grumble through the other side, but didn't stick around to figure out what exactly was said. Instead she lowered herself as far as she could then gripped the blanket, shimming down to the end of it's length. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw that she would still have a few feet to drop and if she didn't do it just right then she would break an ankle... or worse.

There was only a couple minutes to decide and Almiri knew that it was best she drop quickly. Worst case scenario she would have to do a healing spell, which would take time and she needed to get away as fast as she could. Once they knew she wasn't in her room they would follow right after. Almiri released the sheet and her feet collided with the ground a few seconds later. With a deft rock onto her toes she only wobbled slightly, and other than a sharp sting she was no worse for wear.

Almiri hefted her bag onto her shoulders and began scrambling down the rocks, ignoring the protests of her mind that said she could encounter anything on the way down. She stopped in her tracks, the memory of Ake's body colliding with the ground. Almiri shook the thought from her head. "Stop it." She knew what made her want to turn back, but she couldn't let some foolish attraction stop her.

"You fool! Where is she?!"

Almiri sucked in a breath, taking off at a run. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, as it was clear from his voice that Ulfric was angry, as she'd expected. The wind screamed through the trees, carrying icy flakes of snow that nipped at her cheeks as she slid down the trail, barreling towards the edge of the trail. The only way to not get caught was to leave the trail, which brought dangers of its own. Morning light filtered through the leaves atop the trees, guiding her deeper into their bark covered arms. She was barely three feet into the forest when the air seemed to warm, and her hair on the back of her neck raised.

" _WULD_!"

Almiri spun around, she could see Ulfric's form spiraling towards her. The force of air blew her golden hair back from her face, giving her the full sight of Ulfric standing before her. She blinked at him, looked to where Fahim stood, and then back at Ulfric. "How did- Can _I_ do that?!" Ulfric would have been amused at her enthusiasm if he wasn't so furious at what she tried to do.

Ulfric grabbed her arm, escorting her back to Hrothgar without saying a word.

* * *

"Deep breath."

Almiri glared. "I know."

"Focus."

"I _know_ ," she growled.

"Patience."

Almiri deflated.

"You know?" Arngeir asked placidly.

Almiri looked up at him and she could see the laughter in his expression. Wonderful, the Greybeard had a sense of humor.

What he needed was a sense of urgency, and instructions that involved more than telling her to alternate between breathing through her nose and mouth. She felt the difference, and was about ready to shout his head off if they didn't do something new! Almiri shifted her weight between her legs. She was sitting on the floor across from Arngeir, who looked serene with his eyes shut and lips slightly parted.

"Close your eyes and try again."

Almiri stared at him with suspicion, how did he know that she had her eyes open?

She harshly dispelled the air from her lungs, sat up straight, shut her eyes, and slowly - almost too slowly - breathed in. She focused on removing any tension in her body, staying still but relaxed. She sucked in a breath, wiggled her body as her bum began to grow stiff, and breathed out. _This isn't working._ She breathed in, rolled her shoulders back, breathed out. Almiri paused, hissing out her breath in frustration. She peeked open one eye.

Arngeir breathed in deeply, then let out his breath. "You need to focus. Eyes shut."

Almiri muttered, "yes, just focus," blithely, shutting her eyes. She tensed her body and released like Arngeir had taught her. Breath in. Out. _Relax._

Then something strange happened. She could feel Arngeir's presence. Her mind was blank of everything except the feel of the Thu'um. Like a sixth sense, her body knew where each Greybeard was by their power. Ulfric's Thu'um was different from their's, more volatile. It pulsed within him like a second heartbeat. When she reached out towards him, it reacted, pushing back towards her in a sudden burst of energy. Her entire body began to tingle with the familiar feeling of him. She let go of the hold that she had on her own Thu'um, letting it flow over her. It was cool and refreshing like water washing over her on a hot day. Her Thu'um pushed against his, the tingling energy swirling together as she opened herself to it. Almiri wondered how Ulfric felt as his Thu'um pulsed, giving off warmth like sunlight or fire.

The sensation of his Thu'um against hers grew and her breathing grew faster, ragged breaths forcing through her lips. Her focus slowly began to slip. Almiri frantically tried to keep the connection as the feelings began to fade and her body returned to normal. She could feel a growing unrest inside the room and Arngeir stood abruptly. Whatever small calm she had left, shattered. He looked down on her and she frowned up at him. Then, surprisingly, he smiled at her.

"You are ready."

She blinked at him. Did they say things so cryptically on purpose? Arngeir led her out of the small training room and back to the front hall of High Hrothgar. The other Greybeards were waiting in a circle for them, while Fahim sat lazily in a chair and Ulfric stood stiffly across the room. His eyes caught hers, and she shuttered remembering the earlier feeling. Almiri was ushered into the center of the circle, and before she knew what was going on she had another feeling similar to when she absorbed a dragon's soul. The experience and wisdom from their entire life of learning was flowing into her.

* * *

Fahim was loudly eating food beside Almiri, who glanced across the table at Ulfric, who still hadn't said a word to her since the day she finally began learning new shouts. It had been three days since and she was getting rather unnerved by it. Did she do something wrong? Ulfric looked up and Almiri immediately looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring. It was childish, she knew, but she couldn't getting the feeling of his Thu'um out of her mind. Each time she looked at him, the memory washed over her sending a chill down her spine. She preferred it when all he made her feel was disgust.

Almiri stuffed a piece of bread in her mouth, angrily chewing it up. She focused on feeding herself, knowing that she would need the energy for the trip ahead. Apparently all of this training was not enough, the Greybeards had a task for her still. The hall echoed from the creaking of the front door, a thin man peered inside. Almiri blinked at him, a courier had traveled all the way up the steps to High Hrothgar? _How?_

He tugged his hat against his head, keeping his sight aimed at the ground as he rushed over to where Ulfric sat. The courier placed the letter and the hurried off, much in the same way that a fennec would scamper away in fear. Ulfric quick read the note, folded it, and stuffed it into a pocket. When he stood and walked over to Fahim, Almiri watched him. He looked angered by what he read, and by the way Fahim jumped to his feet and gathered his supplies, she knew that they were leaving.

"Get your things," Ulfric grunted as he passed by.

Almiri nodded, quietly shoveling the last of her food into a pouch before hurrying off to her room. It had to have been bad news.


End file.
